


It's High-namura Noon

by ZellieAlmasy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, East meets west trope, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Samurai cowboy trope, definitely not ripping off tropes from a certain movie that shall not be named
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10297847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZellieAlmasy/pseuds/ZellieAlmasy
Summary: Hanzo just wanted to bring his brother back to Japan, but in the process, gets the tour of America he never wanted.This fic was born in spite, but hey, I'm rollin' with it.  Also don't let the "Teen" rating fool ya.  All my fics get super explicit eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I originally called this a "Shanghai Noon ripoff," but in a modern setting, and obviously, with backstories suitably appropriate for the characters involved. It's really just kind of loosely based on the film, because it’s not - and cannot be - a direct ripoff, but you’ll see certain similarities. I wrote it in response to someone who called my idea "shitty AU," so. Call me salty or butthurt or whatever, I don’t give a shit what you call me because this idea has made people Mad and that’s a win, in my books. Anyway. Here’s the first chapter of what I’ve lovingly nicknamed “the spitefic.”
> 
> (also I thought I originally already had "enemies to lovers" tagged but I guess I didn't???? Oh well it's there now)

Once the plane finally landed in the United States, Hanzo removed a cheap flip phone from his small travel bag. Instead of using his usual smartphone and worrying about international fees and the general hassle of out-of-country service, he opted to buy a temporary burner phone for his very brief time in the States.

His brother Genji had been attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, but lately there had been some issues with his grades slipping. As the problem grew worse, Genji also neglected several attempts by his family to contact him. So, their father tasked Hanzo with travelling to Boston and bringing Genji back to Japan. 

As soon as the pilot gave the okay to use cellular devices, Hanzo used the number pad to laboriously type out a text: 

_”Genji, this is your brother. I have just landed in Boston, as I'm sure you're already aware, after the numerous messages Father and I have left you. I expect to see you at your apartment soon.”_

By the time he finished the message, the aisle on the plane had cleared up enough for Hanzo to leave his seat. He only had one carry-on bag that easily sat at his feet during the flight, so he didn't need to waste time digging through overhead compartments as he slowly followed the line out of the plane. 

Outside, there were plenty of taxis ready to pick up the various travelers exiting the airport. Hanzo easily hailed a cab and gave the driver Genji’s address. 

Their father had paid not only for Genji's tuition, but also his rent. Seeing that he had given everything to his son, the head of the Shimada family felt it was well within his right to take it all away, now that Genji’s behavior had become less than satisfactory. And since he paid for the apartment, their father also had a copy of the key, which he had given to Hanzo to take with him on his trip. 

It was a tall, modern building that stood out against the historical aesthetic throughout the city. The way the old buildings mixed with new almost reminded Hanzo of home. Of course, Hanamura was much older than Boston, but he couldn't help but think of how to this day, his old family manor stood tall as the city around it continued to grow and modernize. Hanzo already felt a little pang of homesickness, and he hadn't even been off the plane five minutes. 

The drive to the apartment didn't take long. Though he did have a key, Hanzo still remained polite and knocked on the door. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, this time a bit more loudly, but still, he could hear no sound coming from the other side. Hanzo finally retrieved the key from his bag and let himself into the apartment. 

There was a bit more space than one person needed, but most of that space had been taken up with clutter. Empty liquor bottles were scattered throughout the kitchen and living room, along with various articles of clothing. There was no reason Genji shouldn't be here. He should have expected Hanzo, and besides, it was just the beginning of spring break, so classes shouldn't have been an issue. 

“Genji,” Hanzo called out as he tentatively opened the bedroom door. 

Again, the room was empty, aside from more piles of messes. Hanzo frowned and grumbled in frustration as he pulled out the flip phone again, this time to call his brother. 

_“Yo, you've reached Genji’s phone. Leave a message, and I probably still won't get back to you.”_ Hanzo took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper, but spoke in a stern voice, “Genji. I am in your apartment. Please come home immediately. I _must_ speak with you.” 

As he waited for a reply, Hanzo called home to let his father know that he arrived safely and to update him on the situation. The conversation was brief, leaving Hanzo to poke around the apartment. The mess confirmed what the Shimada family had suspected all along - instead of applying himself to his studies, Genji had been shirking his responsibilities by spending too much time partying. 

A calendar hanging on the kitchen wall caught Hanzo’s eye. The most recent Friday had a big, red circle around it with one word: “PADRE.” A red line extended from Friday and led through the entirety of the week. 

So wherever Genji was, something called “Padre” was occupying his time. A little more snooping around the apartment, and Hanzo found his brother's laptop, left carelessly without password protection, and the passwords to all his accounts were saved on auto-fill as well. It was no trouble for Hanzo to find Genji’s various social media accounts, where he found mention of “Padre Island.” 

Knowing that his brother would be visiting, it seemed Genji still decided to take a vacation. Hanzo was not pleased, yet still determined to track down his brother. Since Genji wouldn't be home anytime soon, Hanzo immediately purchased tickets for a Greyhound bus to San Antonio, and from there, he'd continue towards this island. 

The soonest available bus to Texas didn't depart until the next day, so Hanzo made himself comfortable and spent the night sleeping on the couch. 

The next day, he wasted no time leaving the apartment and making his way to the Greyhound station. Along the way, he called his father to update him once again on the situation and notifying him of the delay. His father was furious with Genji, of course, but Hanzo swore he would handle everything on his own. 

Travel by bus took much longer than Hanzo expected. He knew the States were big, yet he was still unprepared for the experience. At this point, he could have travelled through half of Japan, yet his journey had only taken him a few states away, and there was still such a long drive down to Texas. 

By the time he reached a middle-of-nowhere rest stop in Tennessee, Hanzo regretted not buying another plane ticket. He hadn't thought another flight would be worth the hassle, but seeing that a trip by bus was so insufferably dull, perhaps a plane would have been wise. But it was too late now. The tickets were purchased, and he didn't intend to waste money so frivolously. He made his decision, and now he would have to live with it. 

As the bus prepared to continue the journey and passengers began to return to their seats, Hanzo spotted the most overbearingly gaudy-looking stereotype of an American. The man looked like he just stepped out of an old spaghetti Western, decked out with a cowboy hat, boots, sarape… the full cowboy getup. He never imagined anyone actually dressed like this for real. Strange, that Hanzo never noticed this man earlier on his trip. 

The two suddenly made eye contact, and before Hanzo could look away, embarrassed to be caught staring, the cowboy offered a grin and a wink before sitting down in an empty seat. 

After that, Hanzo kept his eyes out the window, watching the scenery. Not that there was much of any scenery, but there wasn't anything better to look at, anyway. At least, not without the risk of being caught staring again. 

“All right, everybody, listen up.” After a while, one of the passengers spoke loudly with a noticeable Southern drawl in his voice. 

Hanzo looked up to see that the strange cowboy stood in the aisle as he addressed the bus. Another weasley-looking man excitedly jumped out of his seat as well, joining the cowboy in the aisle. 

“Reach for the sky!” the second man announced. “It's a stick-up!” 

The cowboy sighed and muttered softly to his partner, “C’mon, man, that's… this is my thing, all right? Just lemme do the talkin’, and you collect the money.” 

“My bad. Sorry, Jesse,” the man said with a sheepish grin. 

_“No names,”_ the cowboy hissed, then turned to loudly address the bus once again. “Well you heard ‘im, wallets out. Don't try anything, and no one gets hurt, all right?” 

Since this “Jesse” made his announcement, two other men had also revealed themselves - one in the back of the bus, and the fourth was monitoring the driver, who had begun to pull over on the side of the road. 

“Faster you cough it all up, the faster we'll be on our way,” Jesse continued as his men extorted passengers for their valuables. 

As the cowboy made his way to Hanzo, he rested an elbow on the back of a seat and casually leaned in towards the other man. 

“How's it goin’?” Jesse casually asked, as if they weren't in the middle of a robbery. 

Hanzo remained silent and simply gave the man a cold, defiant stare. 

“Speechless? I get it, these things can be pretty intimidating,” Jesse flashed a toothy grin, “‘specially for someone who looks so out of his element. You a city boy?” 

In response to Hanzo's continued silence, the cowboy continued, “Foreign? No English?” 

Hanzo knit his eyebrows together and scoffed, “ _Yes,_ I do speak English, you--” 

His sentence was cut off by a sudden shriek coming from the back of the train. Jesse and Hanzo looked up to see the first, mouthy thug roughly grabbing a woman by the arm. 

“Guys, guys,” the cowboy called out, “Remember the plan? No violence!” 

Seeing his opening, Hanzo launched his fist into Jesse’s gut, and the next blow landed on the cowboy’s jaw. He knew only had a brief moment to take advantage of the gang’s shock, so Hanzo immediately jumped into action and went straight for the man who had been harassing the woman. 

The thug released his victim and reached for a gun at his hip, but Hanzo was too quick for him. Gripping the backs of the seats as support, he swung his legs forward and launched himself feet-first at the enemy, slamming him into the back wall of the bus. As the gun fell from his grip, Hanzo kicked it underneath the seats, out of reach. A larger man came at him with a knife, but Hanzo easily deflected the blow and knocked his elbow into the man's face. 

It wasn't enough to completely disable the two, but it delayed them enough to give Hanzo time to address the thug that still held the bus driver hostage. He turned back towards the front of the aisle, roughly shoving past Jesse on the way. The man at the front turned to face Hanzo, also reaching for a gun, which was once again immediately disarmed. 

“Drive!” Hanzo ordered as he grappled with the other man, pinning him to the broad, flat windshield of the bus. 

The driver quickly obeyed, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. The bus swerved down the country road as the driver panicked, but Hanzo skillfully continued to wrestle with the other man. Desperate to not be pushed further, the thug tightly gripped the metal railings that flanked the stairs descending from the bus. 

“Open the doors!” Hanzo shouted. The driver hesitated, so he called out to him again, “Do it!” 

The driver pulled a lever and as the doors creaked open, Hanzo planted a solid kick to the thug’s chest, launching him out of the bus as it barrelled down the road. 

Now that the driver was no longer held hostage, he radioed in to the local police to report what was happening on his bus. In the meantime, Hanzo continued dealing with the rest of the gang that remained. Jesse seemed to be hiding someplace, but Hanzo was more concerned about the two men that he could see, who were still an apparent danger. 

“C’mon, he's just one guy! Get ‘im!” the weasley man shouted as he and the larger thug cautiously advanced down the aisle. 

“ _You_ get ‘im,” the larger one snapped back. 

Hanzo, however, didn't wait for them to continue arguing. He chose to attack the larger one first, careful not to accidentally hit any of the innocent passengers who had remained huddled in place. The spar proved much more difficult. Not only was this man larger, but Hanzo had already begun to wear down after all the fighting he'd already done. His opponent landed a few blows, but Hanzo never gave up. Even as he fell to the floor, Hanzo had a plan. He swept his leg out, knocking the larger man down with him. 

Just as Hanzo leapt on top of the other man, ready to knock him out with just a few more punches, the weasley man shouted over the noise from the brawl. “Hey, hey, now hang on just a minute there!” 

Hanzo looked up to see that the man had retrieved his discarded gun and grabbed a young woman as a hostage. “Don't you move one more muscle!” 

“You Americans and your _guns_ ,” Hanzo said through clenched teeth. “Only a coward threatens the defenseless.” 

The larger thug took advantage of the moment and knocked Hanzo away with a powerful sweep of his arm. Hanzo quickly scrambled to his feet but remained in place as he carefully watched the other two, clearly worried for the woman. 

“Please, there's no need for violence,” an elderly passenger spoke as he rose from his chair. “The police are on their way. You don't want to add a murder charge on top of robbery, son, do you?” 

“Shut it, geezer!” the man yelled as he pointed his gun towards the passenger. “Y’all are gonna let us off this bus, all right? Don't think I won't shoot, ‘cause I will!” 

Hanzo’s eyes darted around the bus, looking for any weakness he could exploit, and just where was Jesse? The man seemed to be the ringleader and was opposed to violence. Where was he, now that his gang seemed out of control? 

“That's a heavy burden, taking a human life,” the elderly man continued to reason, hands held defensively in the air. “It's not too late, son, drop the weapon.” 

“Please, you have our money, just let us go!” another passenger cried out. 

The thug waved his gun in the direction of the voice, unsure where it came from. His other arm, however, remained tight around his hostage. “I ain’t no one's ‘son’!” 

With the weasley man distracted, the hostage decided to try her hand at escape. Before Hanzo or anyone could stop her, she managed to pull a small can of pepper spray out of her pocket, which she shot square in her captor’s face. With a loud cry of pain, the man released her, but in a panic, pulled the trigger on his gun. It was a blind shot, but the bullet still managed to hit the elderly man in the chest. 

Hanzo's eyes widened as he immediately jumped to the man's aid, applying pressure to the wound. With their main obstacle distracted, the larger thug grabbed his temporarily disabled partner and dragged him to the front of the bus, where they demanded to be let off. Without Hanzo’s protection, the driver was too scared to deny their request, so the two men successfully made their escape. 

“I'm sorry,” Hanzo muttered to the injured man. “I've failed.” 

“No, no,” the man insisted, “you did just fine.” 

“Don't speak. Please, save your energy. Help is on the way.” 

Hanzo felt his chest tighten in despair as he realized there was nothing he could do for this man. He fought his hardest to protect these people, yet still, he failed and was unable to do anything to ease this man's suffering. He didn't know how serious the injury was, or if the man would even survive, but Hanzo sat there with him, doing his best to try and keep him awake and comfortable until the medics could arrive. 

Thankfully, it wasn't much longer until they reached the next rest stop, where they remained until the authorities could catch up with them. Hanzo prayed silently as the elderly man was carried away on a stretcher, hoping he would recover soon. 

After giving his statement to the police, Hanzo leaned against the wall of the small gas station and sighed as he tried to simply put his mind at ease. His eyes glanced over at the bus, empty of passengers. Even after the police had spoken to everyone and began to leave, nobody was eager to get back on the bus. They purchased water from the shop, or simply sat outside for some fresh air. 

However, Hanzo noticed a subtle motion in the back of the bus. It seemed like the door to the bathroom opened up, and the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat slowly crept towards a window. The window opened, and the shadow began to climb out the other side. 

_So that's where he was hiding,_ Hanzo thought to himself as he briskly walked towards the bus. He arrived just in time to find Jesse straighten up after landing on the ground. 

“You,” Hanzo hissed, glaring at the other man. 

“Howdy,” the cowboy replied, then immediately turned heel and dashed away from the rest stop, towards the highway. 

They were still in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn't any traffic to dodge as Hanzo chased Jesse across the road. The cowboy purposely took a path that would keep the bus between them and the crowd, leaving him out of sight from the others as he fled. 

Hanzo almost caught up, but Jesse disappeared into a corn field. The crop was tall, making it difficult to pursue. Hanzo followed as long as he could, but eventually lost track of the other man. He stood still, trying to listen for the crackle of stalks being trampled as the cowboy made his escape, but it was no use. Jesse was gone. 

Distraught by another failure, Hanzo made his way back to the bus. He found an open seat all the way in back. The rest of the passengers loaded in, and the bus continued down the road, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Exhausted from the day's events, Hanzo huddled into himself and easily drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you don't have to wait til next chapter, I'm gonna reveal that the shitty mouthy gangbanger (a clear ripoff of Wallace) is named Wilson, not only for the similarity but mostly as a nod to Owen Wilson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is lost and just cannot get rid of that damn annoying cowboy. I was so moved by everyone's comments, I managed to complete chapter 2 already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a lot, coming from me - okay, if you know me, you know this is _a fucking lot_ , being a grade-A shitlord like myself - that I specifically dropped the "Shanghai Noon ripoff" in the description. Because you see here, I'm not really part of the actual fandom, right, I'm just here for the game. With this fic, I'm just kinda dipping my toe in the fandom, if you will. So unbeknownst to me, some fucklords out there are actually trying to call the ACTUAL MCHANZO SHIP by "Shanghai Noon" and come on guys, that actually is SUPER fucked up and you are the reason why we can't have nice trope ideas without people getting suspicious of our intent, ya dig?

The encounter with the bandits had left Hanzo more exhausted than he realized. He had only meant to take an afternoon nap, but it was already fairly late in the evening, so he managed to sleep throughout the night and into the next morning.

The bus jerked to a stop, finally rousing Hanzo from his sleep. They had reached another waystation someplace in Arkansas, according to the driver. This was a different driver from the previous day, but Hanzo thought nothing of it. This was a long trip, and drivers and passengers would sometimes swap at the various Greyhound stations along the way. 

As the passengers shuffled around, some disembarking for good, others simply taking a break, Hanzo remained in his seat and checked his phone for messages. Just as he had feared, there was nothing from Genji. He tried calling his brother again, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Hanzo didn't bother leaving another message, but instead called their father to keep him up-to-date, conveniently leaving out the part where he fought highway robbers. 

The bus ride continued once again for several hours, and there was more of the same nothing to see out the window. They eventually crossed the border into Oklahoma, but being unfamiliar with American geography, Hanzo didn't notice anything was amiss until he left the bus to buy some snacks from a rest stop. 

As he exited the gas station and found the bus, he saw in bright red letters just above the door: “Carson City, Nevada.” 

Hanzo stood motionless, blinking in disbelief as the realization set in - this was not his bus to San Antonio. How many miles had he traveled out of his way? How did he even get on the wrong bus in the first place? 

As he thought back, Hanzo recalled his pursuit through the cornfield, then returning to the rest stop. He didn't check the sign above the doors because it hadn't occurred to him that there would be another bus there. His driver must have departed while Hanzo chased that cowboy, only for another Greyhound to arrive in the meantime. It was the only possibility. 

Whatever happened, there was no use dwelling on the past. The fact remained that he was stuck here and would very much prefer not to get on that bus and continue further away from his destination. 

Once again, Hanzo felt regret in his travel decisions. He should have taken a plane, and he should have brought his smartphone. But there was no way he could have ever thought this would happen. This was never meant to be a complicated trip. Just fly to Boston, pick up Genji, and return to Japan. Simple. Yet here he was, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely nothing but his wallet and a flip phone. 

He made his way back into the gas station and spoke to the man behind the register. “Pardon me. My plans have changed, and I no longer need to ride this bus,” he lied, embarrassed to tell the truth. “Is there a phone number I might call to hire a taxi?” 

“Sorry, buddy,” the man replied. “Ain’t no taxis ‘round here. Not much o’ anything, ‘less you wanna try hitchin’.” 

Hanzo fell into a thoughtful silence as he pondered his situation, but before he could come up with a solution, the man behind the counter spoke up again. 

“Know what? My cousin’s got an ol’ beater he's been tryin’ to sell.” The clerk spoke loudly and slowly, which Hanzo suspected was because he was a foreigner. He narrowed his eyes a little, unhappy with the assumption, but still remained politely silent and allowed the man to continue. “If you want, I can give ‘im a call and have ‘im bring it down here. You can buy it and take yourself wherever it is you're goin’.” 

“Thank you for the offer. I'll need a moment to consider,” Hanzo replied and stepped back outside. 

The bus to Nevada looked like it was ready to leave any second. He supposed he could try his luck and ride the bus to a more populated town where he could rent a car or buy another bus ticket, but he didn't know how much further out of the way that would take him. He had already wasted enough time on this trip. A car of his own would be much more efficient, but that would be a lot of money to spend on something he only needed for a couple days. 

Hanzo called his father for guidance, this time admitting the truth to what he had done. Of course, that earned him a harsh scolding, but thankfully, his father offered a simple solution. He would transfer money to Hanzo’s account for the car, and once his trip was complete, he could get the money back by selling the car again. 

Once that was settled, Hanzo returned to the clerk and agreed to look at this car. He waited outside the gas station for a few minutes until a man drove up in an old, beat-up Chevrolet. Hanzo cringed as he looked over the car, but reminded himself that as long as it would get him to Padre Island, he didn't need anything fancy. 

After a bit of negotiating, the man agreed to sell the car for $2000. Hanzo purchased a money order from the clerk, which he then gave in exchange for the car. Before driving away, Hanzo asked for directions to Texas, and the two men gave a quick description of which roads to take. With business settled, Hanzo started the car and set out alone. 

Driving on the right side of the road felt a bit odd to Hanzo, but he quickly adjusted and maneuvered the vehicle perfectly well as he continued to follow the instructions he had been given. 

As he drove on and on, he began to zone out and succumb to highway hypnosis. His eyes were so fixed on the road itself, that Hanzo almost missed the man walking along the shoulder with his thumb sticking out. At the sight of an approaching car, the man frantically waved his arms and jumped out into the road, finally catching Hanzo's attention. 

Hanzo slammed on the breaks, staring wide-eyed at this man who impulsively threw himself into traffic. Of all the people in this vast stretch of country, the hitchhiker just happened to be the very same cowboy from the Greyhound robbery. 

“You again!” Hanzo shouted as he immediately shifted the car into park and jumped out of the driver's seat. 

“Well if it ain't the little ninja that threw a wrench in my little scheme,” Jesse grinned. 

Hanzo ignored the part where the man called him a “ninja” and simply lunged forward, roughly gripping the cowboy by the front of his shirt. “You shot that man.” 

“Now, hang on there, I didn't shoot anybody!” Jesse protested. “That was all Wilson. New guy, bit of a wild card. Never liked him.” 

“He was one of your men - your responsibility,” Hanzo insisted. 

“Ain't my men no more,” the cowboy sighed. “They ditched me. Took the money and left me in the middle o’ nowhere.” 

Hanzo paused thoughtfully, then shoved Jesse away, back towards the shoulder of the road. He wanted this man to pay for his crimes, but it seemed karma had already bit him in the ass. 

“It's the least you deserve,” Hanzo replied as he made his way back to the car. 

“C’mon, man, you can't just leave me here,” Jesse pleaded. 

“Watch me,” Hanzo countered as he sat down behind the wheel. 

But before the door was shut, the cowboy called out, “Thought you was goin’ to San Antonio?” 

Hanzo paused. “That isn't your concern.” 

“Maybe not, but you oughtta know this is the wrong way.” 

“The man at the gas station told me Texas is this way.” 

“He ain't wrong, if you wanna go to the panhandle,” Jesse explained. “San Antonio’s on the other end of the state. See? You're fixin’ to get yourself lost. You need me.” 

Hanzo gave an irritated scowl. He did not like this man one bit, but he couldn't deny the outlaw had a much better lay of the land. “Fine. Which way is San Antonio?” 

“Take this road ‘til ya see signs for 270. Make a right,” Jesse explained. “That’ll turn into 412. Stay on it, and it'll take you straight there.” 

“That's all?” 

“That's all.” 

“Thank you,” Hanzo tersely replied as he slammed the door shut. He could hear the cowboy’s muffled shouts as he shifted back into drive, but ignored the cries as he rode off, leaving Jesse stranded. 

He easily followed the roads that the other man pointed out, but after hours and hours of driving, Hanzo found no sign that he was getting anywhere near Texas. However, later in the evening, he did pass a sign welcoming visitors to New Mexico. 

Though he was out of his element, Hanzo was certain that the next border he crossed should have been from Oklahoma into Texas. He had followed Jesse’s instructions perfectly, yet he still managed to get lost. Unless… 

That scoundrel gave him bad directions. Hanzo was a fool to think he could have trusted that man. However, it was getting late, and he was exhausted from driving most of the day. He decided to call it quits for the night and continue the drive in the morning. 

When Hanzo reached something resembling civilization, he found a motel off the highway and booked a room for the night. After spending so much time on that awful bus, he relished the opportunity for a warm bath and a real bed. 

Though, after his bath, Hanzo decided to wait a little longer before settling into bed. All of his belongings were still on that first Greyhound bus, so he needed to restock on a few supplies first. There wasn't much in this town, but at least Hanzo was able to locate a large chain store that sold a little bit of everything. The clothing selection wasn't much to his liking, but he managed to find a few suitable outfits and enough toiletries to hold him over until he could find Genji. 

As he paid for his supplies, Hanzo realized he had barely eaten all day. There weren't many places open this late, but on his way back to the motel, he spotted a small restaurant that still seemed to be serving customers. 

He parked the old Chevy and made his way inside to find that although the place did advertise barbecue, the inside looked more like a bar. Hanzo felt so out of place, yet the rumbling in his stomach urged him to stay and order some food. 

His eyes glanced over the crowd for an open seat, but he suddenly stood frozen in place, jaw dropped in shock as he noticed that once again, his path seemed to miraculously lead him to Jesse. Part of him wanted to leave before the cowboy could notice him, but deep down, he still felt an anger for this man and the fact that he had not properly atoned for his crimes. 

In that brief moment of hesitation, the decision was made for him. Jesse glanced up and met Hanzo's gaze. The cowboy grinned widely, seeming much less surprised to see the other man. 

Hanzo quickly approached his table, glaring angrily. “I followed your instructions perfectly. This isn't Texas.” 

“Sure isn't,” Jesse chuckled. 

“You misled me on purpose?!” 

“Hey, now, you left _me_ for the buzzards,” the cowboy pointed out. 

“Clearly you have not suffered the appropriate penance for your crimes. I will notify the local authorities that they harbor a criminal in their town.” Hanzo turned to leave, but Jesse suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Hey, now, don't go do anything rash.” 

“Like rob a bus?!” Hanzo loudly countered, despite the other man's attempts at shushing him. “Hardly.” 

“C’mon, sit down, have a drink, and let's talk this over.” Jesse tried to give his arm a tug. 

Hanzo, however, roughly pulled his arm away, and in the process, accidentally threw his elbow into a nearby biker who was carrying a full mug of beer back to his table. As the man stumbled forward, the drink sloshed over the edge of the cup, soaking the front of his shirt and his long, gray beard. He immediately turned on his assailant, glaring furiously as the rest of his gang slowly rose from their seats. 

It was just an honest mistake, but Hanzo panicked and pointed towards Jesse, who had clapped a hand over his mouth and slid lower in his chair. “He did it.” 

Naturally, none of the bikers believed the lie. There was no possible way Jesse could have been the culprit. The man who spilled his beer immediately launched a punch in Hanzo’s direction, but the attack was easily dodged. The biker had momentum, though, and his punch continued past his target and collided into the jaw of a different customer. Nobody cared to explain the mishap, or even listen to an explanation, so an all-out-brawl broke out in the bar. 

The bikers split their attention between Hanzo and the second man who had been accidentally punched, while other patrons jumped in to defend against the bikers. Though Hanzo was very skilled in combat, he was still outnumbered. One of his opponents managed to grab hold of him and launch him several feet back, causing him to land flat on Jesse’s table. 

Before the cowboy could say anything, Hanzo immediately shot him a furious glare and shouted, “This is entirely your fault!” 

He remained sitting on the table and swung his legs around and planted a rough kick to Jesse’s chest, knocking him backwards onto the floor. But before he could follow up, somebody gripped the back of Hanzo’s shirt, yanking him away. Two of the bikers managed to hold him down and pin him to the wall. Just as Hanzo feared he couldn’t escape before sustaining a serious injury, a wooden chair swept across both his attacker’s heads. The bikers crumpled to the ground, bringing Hanzo face-to-face with Jesse, who stood there panting heavily, rubbing his chest. 

Hanzo had absolutely no idea why the cowboy would come to his rescue, but this wasn’t the time for questioning it. He simply acknowledged Jesse with a grateful nod, then pushed past him to knock out another man who looked to be winding up to hit the cowboy. 

As badly as Hanzo hated this man, it seemed he had no choice but to team up with him. This brawl was too out of control and there were too many combatants to go at it alone. Jesse’s fighting style was clunky and untrained, but he managed to hold his own surprisingly well. 

Just as the two men were falling in sync, finding their rhythm, a sudden shotgun blast rang over the noise of the brawl. Everyone froze in place and looked to the door, where the local sheriff stood with his weapon pointed at the ceiling, wooden dust sprinkling down from where the bullets had lodged themselves. He was flanked by his deputy and two officers, who were all clearly ready to react if anyone so much as stepped a toe out of line. 

“Who started this mess?” the sheriff demanded. 

Although Hanzo had just been fighting alongside Jesse, he suddenly remembered the hatred he felt for the man and immediately pointed an accusing finger at the cowboy, who, likewise, pointed his finger at Hanzo. 

“Good ‘nuff for me.” The sheriff nodded to the two men as he addressed the other officers. “Cuff ‘em.” 

Knowing better than to fight a lawman, Hanzo simply stood in stunned silence as he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs as they clamped down on his wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this is as far as my "ripoff" ideas went, and seeing as I seem to have made my point, I'll quit goin' so heavy on parallel scenes from the film-who-shall-not-be-named. That's just boring to write, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crammed in a jail cell alone with McCree all night, Hanzo finally starts to open up to the other man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. This fic has nothing to do with China. But please keep up the uninformed comments because they're a real hoot and tbh way more entertaining than my crappy writing.
> 
> Also yes, I used to work loss prevention so I'm well aware people get put in separate squad cars when they're arrested, but for the sake of fiction, let's just pretend.

Hanzo could practically feel his heart drop into his gut as the officers roughly shoved him into the back of a patrol car along with Jesse. The cowboy didn't seem bothered by this new development, and maybe even looked a little bit amused as he made himself comfortable in the back seat. Hanzo, however, couldn't afford to be so lax about this situation. He had never been arrested in his entire life. Even with his family’s shady business dealings, they had so much money, the law never touched them.

Yet here he was, on his first trip to America, getting stuffed in a squad car with a common thief! His father could probably get him out of this, but Hanzo didn't dare consider asking for aid. If he could help it, his father would never find out what had happened this night. 

“You look tense,” Jesse spoke as the sheriff drove to the station. 

“You might be comfortable in handcuffs, but I, however, have my family name to uphold,” Hanzo replied through clenched teeth. 

“Yeah what family is that?” 

“Shimada. I am the eldest son, and it is therefore my duty to take over responsibility for the family business once my father is ready to step down.” 

“Never heard of ‘em,” Jesse shrugged. “So is that what this is? A business trip? Kinda weird for a ninja-businessman to hitch a ride on a bus.” 

“I am _not_ a ninja. I practice the art, but actual ninja no longer exist,” Hanzo firmly corrected. 

“Ninja, kung-fu, same diff.” 

“Kung-fu is _Chinese_ , and it is _not_ the same--” 

In his frustration, Hanzo hadn't realized how much he had raised his voice. His sentence was cut off as the deputy riding in the passenger seat reached back and pounded on the glass separating him from the two men in the back. “Settle on down back there!” 

Hanzo slumped in his seat with a huff, trying his best to sit comfortably with his arms wedged behind his back. Jesse easily lounged in the back, knees comfortably spread apart and taking up a bit too much space for Hanzo’s liking. 

Thankfully, this was a small town, and it didn't take very long to get to the station. Hanzo dreaded what might happen once they realized he wasn't an American citizen, but the sheriff marched them right past the desks and removed their cuffs before shoving the two men together in a cell. 

“What's going on?” Hanzo asked once they were left alone. “They aren't going to take our information?” 

“In small town New Mexico? Nah, not for this,” Jesse answered, already getting comfy on the frayed and faded cot. “They're probably more worried ‘bout finding a donut shop still open, instead of fillin’ out all our paperwork.” 

Hanzo sighed as he remained standing, resting his forehead against the cold metal bars. “I was looking forward to sleeping in a bed tonight.” 

“Hey, we can share,” Jesse offered and scooted as close to the wall as he could, but there was still barely any room on the small cot. “I don't mind, any.” 

“No, thank you,” Hanzo firmly replied. 

There was a moment of silence where Hanzo breathed slowly, trying to find some peace in this awful place, but of course the cowboy had to disrupt the quiet. 

“So what's your deal, anyway?” Jesse asked as he sat up on the bed, leaning forward in interest. “Not every day my gang runs into a guy who can single-handedly take us all out. What’re you even doing here?” 

“That's none of your concern.” 

Hanzo kept his back to the other man, looking straight forward, past the bars of their jail cell, but he could still easily hear Jesse’s clunky footsteps as the cowboy approached. 

“Look, I think you and me got off on the wrong foot,” Jesse offered as he casually leaned against the bars. 

“You _robbed_ a bus,” Hanzo spoke through clenched teeth. 

“Are we never gonna get past that? C’mon, let's start over. Name's McCree. Jesse McCree.” He offered up a handshake, which Hanzo pointedly ignored. “Never did catch your name.” 

“You don't need it.” 

Jesse awkwardly pulled his hand away and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Won't give me a name, what you’re doing, why you're here… Nothing. Well ain't you just a real man of mystery.” 

“It’s of no consequence. We will be parting ways for good as soon as they release us.” 

“Yeah? How's travelling alone been working out for ya?” Jesse pointed out. 

Hanzo folded his arms and stubbornly turned away. “Why are you so adamant on travelling with me?” 

“Road trips ain’t fun if you do ‘em alone, and truth is…” Jesse sighed, hesitating a moment before he continued. “Truth is, I've been real down on my luck lately. Things ain't been goin’ quite right, and I could use your help as much as you could use mine.” 

While Jesse remained leaning against the bars, Hanzo claimed the cot for himself, curling up with his back to the cell. 

“Oh that's real nice. Guess I'll just take the floor, then,” the cowboy grumbled. He leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, wrapping his sarape snugly around himself as he tried to get comfy. 

A silence fell between them once again, but after a while, Hanzo wasn't sure why, but he finally spoke one more word - “Hanzo.” 

“Come again?” 

“Shimada Hanzo. My name.” 

“Oh, like Hattori Hanzo?” 

He sat up from the cot, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You know the story of Hattori Hanzo?” 

“Shit, yeah, everyone's seen Kill Bill,” Jesse replied with a grin. 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, shooting another glare before curling back up again. 

“What? What’d I say wrong this time?!” Jesse huffed. 

“Goodnight, McCree.” Hanzo made a point to use the man's last name. They weren't friends, nor did he ever intend for them to be. 

The harder Hanzo tried to fall asleep, the more restless he felt. This cot was so uncomfortable, and the idea of being in jail was still so unsettling, even if they were only being held for the night. After a few hours of tossing and turning, exhaustion finally caught up with him and he managed to fall asleep. 

Hours later, the loud clang of the metal door caused Hanzo to jolt awake. One of the deputies stood with the cell door open, eyeing the two men. “All right, boys, up and at ‘em. Don't lemme catch you brawlin’ again.” 

“You have my deepest apologies,” Hanzo replied, standing to give the man a polite nod. “It was a misunderstanding, and I assure you, it will not happen again.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Now get on outta here.” The deputy nodded to the door, urging them out. 

Hanzo gladly left the station with Jesse right behind. The cowboy loudly yawned and stretched his arms over his head. 

“Damn, my back is killin’ me,” he grumbled. “Hey, since you stole the bed, how ‘bout a little back rub?” 

“Not a chance,” Hanzo replied as he continued out towards the road. He paused, looking around to try and take in his surroundings. 

“What's wrong?” Jesse asked, moving beside him. 

“The car is back at the restaurant.” 

Jesse replied with a hearty chuckle and a pat on the back that nearly made Hanzo stumble forward. “Can't even find your car, and you think you'll make it to San Antonio all on your lonesome? Admit it, you need me.” 

“I'll be fine,” Hanzo insisted as he started walking, trying to remember his way back to the bar. However, he reached the next block and paused, unsure where to go next. 

Jesse didn't say a word. He quietly followed and leaned against a nearby lamppost as he watched Hanzo attempt to work this out for himself. Once the pause lasted a bit too long, the cowboy pointedly cleared his throat. 

With an exasperated sigh, Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke up, “Very well, McCree. Take me to the car.” 

“Thought you'd never ask,” he cheerfully agreed and waved a hand for Hanzo to follow him in the opposite direction they had been walking. 

They walked a few blocks until Jesse finally came to a stop and nodded towards a nearby diner. “I'm starvin’. How ‘bout some breakfast?” 

Hanzo knit his brows together as he weighed the decision. He originally had wanted to be rid of Jesse as soon as possible, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was both very hungry and very lost. With a brief nod, he followed the cowboy into the diner. 

As soon as they slipped into a booth, a waitress approached with a couple menus and a pot of coffee. “Drinks?” 

“Just some O.J. for the two of us,” Jesse replied before his new companion could say a word. 

Hanzo shot him an annoyed glare, but once the waitress stepped out of earshot, the cowboy whispered, “The coffee here tastes like dirt.” 

A moment later, the waitress returned with their juice and glared flatly at Jesse. “Sure you don’t want a cup o’ dirt to go with your meal?” 

Jesse gave her a sheepish grin, but Hanzo felt mortified on behalf of the other man. He took the ceramic white cup on the table and turned it upright, handing it to the waitress. “Actually, I would like some coffee, please.” 

With a satisfied little smirk, she poured the drink into Hanzo's cup. “Gimme a holler when you're ready to order,” she instructed as she left the two men alone once again. 

Hanzo tentatively took a sip of his drink, trying his best not to make a disgusted face when he learned that the coffee was, in fact, quite bitter and flavorless. 

“Thought you knew you could trust me by now,” Jesse said with an amused look on his face. 

“I don't know _what_ to make of you, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo set his cup aside and began looking over the menu. 

“See? You're not the only one who can be mysterious,” he said with a grin. 

Something about the way that cowboy smiled, Hanzo couldn't stand it. He didn't know why, but that grin made him feel unsettled. It was all charm and no sincerity. Something about it made Hanzo feel like he wanted to drop his guard, that everything would be fine. Of course, he knew better, yet the feeling still had him a little on edge. 

“All right. Since you know so much, tell me,” Hanzo set his menu down on the table. “What should I order?” 

“Leave it to me.” Jesse gave a wink and whistled for the waitress to come back. 

For himself, the cowboy ordered chicken and waffles with a side of grits, which made Hanzo cringe, but for the other meal, he requested a simple order of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage. 

As they waited for the kitchen to prepare their meal, Hanzo thoughtfully studied the other man for a moment. “I've been wondering - how did you manage to reach this town? I left you on the side of the highway.” 

“Whoa, now, you expect me to divulge my secrets, but you won't even tell me what you're goin’ to Texas for,” Jesse dodged. 

After taking a slow breath, Hanzo finally confessed, “I am going to a place called Padre Island.” 

The cowboy’s eyes widened in recognition and he responded with a hearty laugh. “Oh no, you can't be serious.” 

“I don't understand.” Hanzo narrowed his eyes, watching the other man with a stone-faced expression. “What is so funny about Padre Island?” 

“Oh, no, darlin’ that place ain't for you,” Jesse chuckled. “You're gonna stick out like a sore thumb.” 

“It isn't _for_ me,” Hanzo replied, getting annoyed. “I'm looking for my brother.” 

“Now we're gettin’ somewhere! Brother's in college, I take it?” 

Hanzo blinked in bewilderment. “How did you know?” 

“This time o’ year, Padre’s like a Mecca for college kids,” Jesse explained. “Spring break.” 

“Yes, he has a break from his classes this week, which is exactly why I was sent to retrieve him now.” 

“‘Retrieve’?” Jesse frowned. “Like he's some kind of package?” 

The waitress returned and set down the plates of food as the conversation went on. After making certain they had everything they needed, she left the table, and the two men continued as they ate. 

“My brother is a graduate student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology--” Hanzo began. 

“No shit, M.I.T.?” Jesse interrupted. “Impressive.” 

“Yes, at least it would be, if he only applied himself.” Seeing the cowboy tilt his head in interest, Hanzo continued, “His grades have been slipping. As a consequence, I must bring him home to Japan.” 

“Aw, c’mon, let the kid live a little,” Jesse spoke around a mouthful of food. “It's spring break.” 

“He has a duty to his family,” Hanzo insisted between bites. 

“Says who?” The cowboy gave a casual shrug. “Hey, maybe he just wants to live his own life.” 

“He has been away from Japan for too long. He must learn to run the family business, as I have.” 

“Yeah, what about you? Do you even want to do any of this? Maybe you don't wanna run that business, either.” 

Hanzo immediately tensed up, narrowing his eyes. “What I want doesn't matter.” 

“You're in the land of the free, home of the brave.” Jesse gestured an arm towards the window. “This is America, darlin’. Your dad’s all the way in Japan. He's got no control over you, so live a little.” 

“He can cut me off financially,” Hanzo pointed out. 

“Could be worth the sacrifice.” 

“I will _not_ defy my father,” he firmly asserted. 

“Fine, fine. Suit yourself.” Jesse waved him off and continued eating his breakfast. “So how's your food? Did I pick good for ya?” 

Hanzo glanced between the cowboy and his plate of food. “It is acceptable, I suppose.” 

The cowboy gave a satisfied nod and continued stuffing more of his own food into his mouth. Hanzo ate more politely, but had a smaller meal, so he didn't take much longer to finish his own breakfast. 

As Hanzo picked at the remaining bites on his plate, Jesse stood up and made his way to the register. By the time he returned, Hanzo had finished eating. 

“The bill?” he asked, glancing at the bit of receipt paper in the cowboy’s hand. 

“Paid.” Jesse held up the paper and crumpled it up before tossing it beside his empty plate. 

Hanzo frowned and glanced off to the side. “You didn't have to do that. I'm happy to pay my share.” 

“I'm sure ya really don't mind spendin’ daddy’s money,” Jesse replied. “And before ya ask - No, none o’ that's robbery money. I won it fair and square, hustlin’ a game of pool.” 

Hanzo followed as the cowboy made his way out of the restaurant, yet he still proceeded to pull his wallet from his pocket. “Allow me to pay for my meal, I insist.” 

“No thanks.” Jesse dismissively waved a hand at the money. “I put you through hell. Treatin’ you to a nice, greasy breakfast is the least I can do.” 

With a sigh of defeat, Hanzo put his money away. He couldn't argue against the logic, that after everything Jesse had done, he owed so much more than eggs and sausage. 

As they approached the car, Jesse leaned against the driver door, blocking Hanzo from reaching it. He had a pleading look in his eyes as he attempted one last appeal. “Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened on that bus. It never meant to get so outta control, and I hate that we've stooped to petty thievery. So c’mon, help me ease my conscience a little, and I'll help you get to Padre. On my honor.” 

“Men like you have no honor. Step aside.” Hanzo tried to push his way to unlock the door, but Jesse continued to block his path. 

“Hey, I'm being serious. Hanzo, c’mon.” 

He paused and folded his arms over his chest as he thoughtfully looked over the cowboy. “Fine. But one strike, and I'll leave you on the side of the road again. You understand?” 

“Crystal clear!” Jesse grinned that wide, irresistible grin and clapped his companion on the back before making his way to the passenger seat. 

Hanzo was completely stunned with his own decision to allow this, but Jesse made a fair point. If he truly regretted his actions, didn't he deserve a chance at reclaiming his honor? And Hanzo was perfectly aware he would need help finding Genji, so maybe they could help one another after all. Hopefully, he wouldn't come to regret this decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has a cruuuuuussshh~ Hanzo has a CRRUUUUUUSSSSH


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is very bad at resisting this attraction to McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so slow about all my fics and I'm sorrryyy, things have been kinda hectic. Thought I'd give this one some attention tho, I was just feeling it I guess~ Changed the rating to M because the very brief scene here doesn't seem all too explicit to me, but lemme know if I'm wrong

Riding with Jesse McCree turned out to be not quite as awful as anticipated. Hanzo didn't care to talk, but the cowboy seemed to talk a little too much. As they drove down Route 66, Jesse offered an abundance of knowledge about the area. He'd spent most of his life around the highway, so he was able to point out every tourist trap to avoid and highlighted the more gritty, authentic sights to see.

Of course, Hanzo reminded him several times that this wasn't a vacation. He had to find his brother as quickly as possible, which allowed no spare time for sightseeing. Still, there was a part of him that enjoyed listening to Jesse speak. The cadence of a thick Southern accent could be difficult to follow sometimes, but it had its own unique charm. The cowboy seemed proud and excited to share his homeland, which Hanzo found endearing, though he would never admit that. He understood taking pride in home, and almost wished he could show Jesse a bit of Japan. 

Almost. Hesitant as he was to allow Jesse in the car, there was no way Hanzo planned to invite this foreigner to Hanamura. It wasn't likely they'd keep in contact after they reached Padre Island, anyway, so he simply focused on the journey and listened to whatever topic the cowboy felt like discussing at the moment. 

Just as everything seemed to have taken a turn for the better, the old junker of a car decided to sputter and slow down to a stop in a middle-of-nowhere desert road. 

“No, c’mon, darlin’ don't do this, not now,” Jesse muttered to the car. It was his turn to drive, but despite whatever levers he pulled or pedals he pumped, the car just refused to keep going. 

“What's wrong? What have you done?” Hanzo frowned and shot the cowboy an accusatory glare. 

“What _I've_ done?” Jesse scoffed. “Believe me, I don't want to be stuck here any more than you do.” 

“The car was just fine when I was driving it.” 

“And that's a damn near miracle in itself,” the cowboy replied as he began to unfasten his seatbelt and pulled a lever to pop the hood. “I mean, look at this thing. Ain't you Asians supposed to be into like, really tricked out cars and stuff?” 

“Well, are all Americans this ignorant, or is it just you?” Hanzo snapped back. 

Jesse responded to the insult with laughter. Not at Hanzo, but it was more of a self-deprecating laugh. “Ya got me there.” 

Hanzo knew he wouldn't contribute much to fixing whatever broke down, so he simply waited in the car while the other man looked over the engine. However, the heat quickly grew too unbearable to remain in the stuffy car for very long, so Hanzo stepped out of the car and leaned against an old wooden fence running along the side of the road. 

By now, Jesse had removed his sarape, rolled up his sleeves, and undone a couple buttons from the top of his shirt as he poked around under the hood. There were dark smudges of grease spotted over his clothes and arms, and even a couple spots on his face where he attempted to wipe off beads of sweat as they rolled down his tanned skin. As much as Hanzo tried not to stare, there was an odd rugged appeal to this cowboy covered in sweat and engine grease and a hint of hair poking out where his shirt exposed his chest. 

“Yep,” Jesse announced decidedly, bringing Hanzo out of his daze. The cowboy hooked his thumbs at his belt buckle and continued, “I got no clue what I'm lookin’ at.” 

Hanzo knit his eyebrows together, quickly remembering that he should be annoyed by this man, instead of admiring his physique. “So call a mechanic.” 

“Love to. Got a number to call?” 

Of course he didn't, and his burner phone didn't have any internet connection to look one up, so Hanzo simply fell silent. 

“C’mon. It's about 20 miles to the next town. Better hoof it if we wanna get there before dark.” 

“You cannot be serious,” Hanzo frowned. 

“Got any better ideas?” Jesse gave a shrug and draped his sarape over a shoulder as he started walking down the road. 

There really didn't seem to be much of a choice, so Hanzo followed along. With any luck, perhaps another car would come down the road and give them help. Though, thinking back to the way he heartlessly ditched Jesse on the side of the road, Hanzo didn't have much faith in being rescued by a kind stranger. 

After several minutes of walking in the scorching Texas heat, the wooden fence along the road ended, and in its place, a steel barbed wire fence continued on to the horizon. These fences must have indicated someone owned property out here, but wherever it was, there were no houses visible from the road. Hanzo might have suggested seeking out whoever had put up these fences, but the last thing he needed was to lose his way on some stranger's property. Especially after tales he heard of how much Americans love guns - and after he experienced it at the hands of Jesse's Deadlock Gang - Hanzo would have very much preferred to avoid a rancher who would shoot first and ask questions later. 

“Hey, Han,” the cowboy spoke up and nodded to the field, “check it out.” 

Hanzo followed his line of sight to spot a team of horses idly grazing in the field. He glanced back to Jesse, slowly piecing together what the cowboy meant to do. 

“McCree…” Hanzo spoke warningly, but was answered with a wide grin and a mischievous gleam in Jesse's eye. 

“You didn't wanna walk, right?” The cowboy slung his sarape over the barbed wire to keep his clothes from snagging as he seemed to effortlessly hop over the fence. 

Hanzo felt it was safe to assume Jesse had done this before, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with it. “I will not take part in your horse thievery,” he announced and continued down the road. 

“Suit yourself,” Jesse replied. He didn't seem too bothered as he grabbed his sarape and made his way towards the herd. 

As Hanzo continued alone down the road, he stewed in anger towards himself that he actually believed Jesse could be anything more than a common thief. Here he was, alone and stranded again, all thanks to the cowboy's selfishness. He didn't need Jesse anyway, Hanzo told himself. All he had to do was follow this road to the next town, where he could find someone to fix the car, and then he'd be on his way. 

Though, the longer he walked, the more unbearable the heat began to feel. Hanzo was thirsty and exhausted, but he had rigorous discipline training since he was a child. He pushed forward, feeling that he had already come a long way, and it wouldn't be much further to the next town. 

When he came across the next sign, however, Hanzo almost sank to his knees in despair as he saw there were still fifteen miles to go. It felt as though he had been walking for ages, but he had only gone five miles. He leaned against the sign, pausing to catch his breath as he mentally cursed this ridiculously large State with all this open, unused land. 

A moment later, he heard a steady clacking noise approaching from the rear. He looked up, not proud of the relieved feeling that came over him as he saw Jesse McCree trotting up to him on horseback. 

The cowboy stopped the horse as he approached Hanzo and gave a low whistle as he looked over the other man. “So how's walking turned out for ya? Lookin’ pretty rough.” 

“I'll manage,” Hanzo replied with a huff. 

“Or you can come on up and ride on with me,” Jesse offered, extending a hand. 

“That is a stolen animal. I already told you I refuse to be an accomplice in your crime.” To emphasize his point, Hanzo turned away and continued walking. 

“Have it your way,” the cowboy answered, but continued slowly, keeping pace with Hanzo. “But I'll keep right here with you, and when the heat exhaustion gets you, I'm haulin’ your pretty little heinie up here whether you like it or not.” 

Hanzo's face heated up, which he convinced himself was from the sun. There was no way he'd fall for such cheap flattery. Besides, he was sure it was just a manner of speech. It was unlikely the cowboy would call any part of Hanzo pretty, let alone his backside. 

Still, the exhaustion really was getting to him, and seeing that Jesse still wouldn't leave him alone, Hanzo decided to swallow his pride. “Very well,” he sighed and turned to face the other man. “Help me up.” 

Jesse gladly reached out a hand and helped pull him up onto the horse. As Hanzo situated himself behind the other man, he tried to not push into the cowboy's personal space any more than he had to, but once the horse began to move, Hanzo found it was extremely difficult to hold himself up with no saddle or stirrups. 

“Hold tight, darlin’,” Jesse warned before kicking the horse to a trot. 

Hanzo had no choice but to wrap his arms around the other man's waist, chest pressed close to the cowboy's back. He caught his heart pounding faster at the pet name, but quickly reminded himself that Jesse also called the car “darling.” It was absolutely ridiculous that he would react to the cowboy like this. Yes, the man was handsome, but he was also a loud, obnoxious, petty thief. He was beneath a man of Hanzo’s standing. 

And yet… Jesse smelled fantastic. It made no sense, after he spent the day in the sun, digging around under the hood of the car. On top of that, Hanzo could feel the other man's muscles through his shirt, and despite a bit of a soft layer over his stomach, Jesse had some fairly solid abs. Hanzo also couldn't help but notice how the leather of Jesse’s chaps spread over thick, muscular thighs as he tightly gripped the horse with his legs. He found himself grateful for the uncomfortable ride, because being pressed this close to the other man, there may have been a problem without the rough bouncing of the horse’s gait. 

Those fifteen miles seemed to pass by much faster, now that the journey was more pleasant. Hanzo's legs cramped and ached, but it was all worth it to be this close to Jesse. It wasn't right to feel this way. Hanzo was more than aware of this, and he constantly ran a list of the cowboy's faults over and over in his mind. Unfortunately for him, logic just could not overcome that basic, instinctive hunger that had begun to grow. 

There was some level of attraction here. This was a fact Hanzo reluctantly accepted, but it was purely superficial. Just because he felt a certain way didn't mean he had to act on any of this. It was only a matter of time before they finally reached Padre Island, and then Hanzo could return home with Genji and put this foolishness behind him. All he had to do was continue acting as though nothing was wrong. 

As they reached the edge of town, the sun had already begun to set. Jesse stopped the horse outside of a run-down motel with an actual hitching post outside. Hanzo was stunned that any place would still have such a thing, but considering this was a small town in the middle of nowhere, he supposed there were plenty of country folk who still enjoyed riding their horses around. 

The two men hopped off their mount, and Hanzo could feel a fire shooting through his legs. Jesse seemed mostly fine as he grabbed a rope to tie around the horse's neck. His walk seemed a bit bow-legged, but Hanzo, on the other hand, needed a moment to stretch and rub the ache in his thighs. 

Once Jesse finished tying up the horse, he turned to the other man and noticed his discomfort. “Feelin’ sore?” He walked past Hanzo, but paused to give him a firm smack on the bottom. “Bath might help.” 

Hanzo jumped in surprise, hands shooting to protect his backside, but Jesse had already moved on towards the door of the motel. “How dare you--!” 

The cowboy chuckled, amused by his companion's anger. “Wait right there. I'll get us a room.” 

Trusting Jesse wouldn't mess up such a simple thing, Hanzo waited outside with their stolen horse, worrying over how they would get it back to the proper owner without being caught. He didn't have much time to think on it, though, because Jesse quickly returned with the key to their room. 

The cowboy led the way and opened the door, but as Hanzo entered the room, he stopped dead in his tracks, frowning deeply at the single king-sized bed in the middle of the room. “This isn't right. They've given us the wrong room.” 

“Sorry, darlin’, but this ain't the Hilton,” Jesse replied as he flopped down on the mattress. “Single-bed rooms are all they've got to offer.” 

“Then we will find another motel.” Hanzo turned to leave, but Jesse quickly bounced back to his feet and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. 

“You really wanna get back up on that horse? After such a long ride, I bet you're feelin’ it pretty bad…” The cowboy slid his hand down and gave Hanzo's inner thigh a light squeeze. “...right around here.” 

Hanzo gasped and tried to quickly jump away, but he was too close to the wall. He turned to shoot Jesse an angry glare, but the cowboy didn't seem to mind. He placed his hand just above Hanzo's shoulder to prop himself up as he leaned in with that cocky grin on his face. This was bad. There was no horse knocking into Hanzo's groin to keep himself from reacting to the other man. 

“So what’ll it be? You stayin’?” Jesse asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I need a bath,” Hanzo quickly replied and shoved his way past the other man to get to the bathroom. 

After locking the door behind him, Hanzo took a quick shower to wash away the sweat and grime before filling up the tub with steaming hot water. As he tried to relax and ease his aching muscles, his mind inevitably wandered back to thoughts about Jesse McCree. Hanzo could have easily begun his meditation techniques to stay focused, but he worried about sharing a bed for the night. Perhaps it would be best, after all, to relieve some of this tension. 

He let his mind wander back to the image of Jesse digging around in the car, covered in grease. He remembered the cowboy's thighs as he held on to the horse, but instead, Hanzo imagined how those thighs would feel wrapped around his own waist instead. It didn't take long before his cock twitched with need. Hanzo eagerly took himself in a firm grip, fist pumping over his length as he pictured Jesse above him, riding him at a gallop, and that voice - that gruff, husky drawl whispering “darlin’” in Hanzo's ear, begging him for more. 

He must have been more wound up than he realized - it didn't take much longer before Hanzo finally hit his peak. With his free hand, he bit down on a knuckle to try and keep quiet as he released into the tub, slowly stroking with his thumb until he spilled every drop. 

Hanzo relaxed with a content sigh, enjoying one brief moment of peace before immediately regretting what he had done. His knees felt weak and shaky, but Hanzo knew he couldn't sit much longer in this dirty, lukewarm water. But not only did he have to force himself out of the tub, he had to return to the bedroom and look Jesse in the eye just after he had fantasized himself balls-deep in the man. With a reluctant groan, he carefully pulled himself to his feet and drained the water before using a towel to dry off. 

Since all his belongings were still in the car, Hanzo didn't have much of a choice but to sleep in his old clothes. He pulled on his underwear and jeans, but decided the shirt was too soaked in sweat to wear overnight. He finally opened the door and found Jesse lounging on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He had funny-looking farmer tan lines around his collar and arms, but that hardly mattered compared to the rest of him. The muscles in his chest and arms were perfectly sculpted, and the hair on his chest trailed down his stomach and vanished beneath the waistband of his underwear. And those _thighs_... Somehow they turned out to be even better than imagined. Allowing his gaze to linger a bit too long, Hanzo decided he was grateful after all that he was already too spent to have an involuntary reaction to the other man. 

“About time,” the cowboy spoke up as he hopped to his feet. “I'm dyin’ to get rid of all this engine grease.” 

“My apologies,” Hanzo muttered as he made his way to the bed. 

As Jesse helped himself to the shower, Hanzo sat on the edge of the mattress, absently running his fingers through his hair in lieu of a brush. Once he was satisfied, he tied back as much as he could, though his bangs still framed the sides of his face. 

Just as he was prepared to settle in, Hanzo noticed that Jesse had left the bathroom door open a crack. Had he realized it hadn't shut all the way? It must have been an accident. Hanzo paused, wondering if he should close the door for the other man, but in that moment, the water turned off and Jesse stepped out of the shower. Hanzo didn't mean to ever invade the other man's privacy, but his eyes just so happened to be pointed in the right direction to get a glimpse of Jesse's incredible backside. 

Hanzo quickly turned away and shut his eyes, but he still couldn't shut out the image of that muscular back, the curve of the cowboy's hip bone, and that round, perfect ass. Face buried in his hands, Hanzo took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm himself and focus his mind. It almost worked, until he felt the dip of the mattress as Jesse settled down beside him. Hanzo sat rigidly upright, eyes widening as if he had somehow been caught in the middle of a guilty act. 

“Feelin’ alright?” the cowboy asked. “Actin’ a mite jumpy.” 

“I'm fine,” Hanzo replied with a heavy sigh. “I'm only tired.” 

“Well…” Jesse grinned and settled back against the pillows. He patted the mattress beside him before folding his arms behind his head. He still wore only his boxer briefs, and Hanzo couldn't help but allow his gaze to linger. “C’mon and get comfy.” 

Though he had no other choice, Hanzo still hesitated for a moment before settling in under the sheets beside the other man. He was overly self-conscious of imposing on Jesse's personal space, so Hanzo perched himself uncomfortably at the edge of the bed, making sure to take as little of the blanket as possible. 

He shut his eyes, taking slow, even breaths to try and fall asleep, but a light touch on his left shoulder caused his eyes to snap open. Jesse’s hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was so gentle as he traced over the lines of Hanzo’s tattoo. 

_“Can - I - help - you?”_ Hanzo asked through clenched teeth, his whole body rigid. 

“Just admirin’ your ink. Damn fine work,” Jesse replied as his fingers trailed down Hanzo's arm, following the curve of his bicep. “What's it mean?” 

“The dragon is a symbol of my family crest,” he replied, voice nearly a whisper. 

Jesse finally removed his hand, but leaned in closer, stretching his arm forward over the other man. “You've seen mine, yeah?” A simple black outline of a skull with wings sprawled over the cowboy's left forearm. “Not as impressive as yours, but it's kinda like a family symbol too.” He paused to give a heavy sigh, dropping his arm to let his hand rest on his companion’s waist. “‘Least I thought we were like family.” 

Hanzo swallowed thickly, trying not to think about how close their bodies were, that they were actually touching one another as they lay in bed together. “Have you considered covering it up?” Hanzo suggested. “There are many talented artists capable of creating new art after you've changed your mind.” 

“Maybe I should get me a big ol’ sleeve like you got,” Jesse spoke around a yawn. “Maybe horses instead of a dragon.” 

“That would look ridiculous.” Hanzo didn't know how he managed to speak at all. His throat felt tight and it was almost difficult to breathe. Jesse still hadn't pulled away. Why hadn't he pulled back? 

“S’nice,” the cowboy muttered, though Hanzo wasn't sure what he was referring to. 

Was he attempting to argue that his horse idea was nice? Or could it have been that he felt comfortable lying here together? Jesse sounded barely awake, so Hanzo could only guess what he had meant. 

In fact, he wasn't sure if Jesse was even still awake at all. The cowboy’s breath had become slower and steadier, and Hanzo suspected the man might have been drooling in his hair. 

“McCree?” Hanzo paused, but there was no answer. More softly, he whispered, “Jesse?” 

The cowboy was most definitely asleep, still wrapped around his companion. After Hanzo had taken such care not to invade Jesse's personal space, the man still went ahead and fell asleep with his chest pressed close against his companion’s back. So close, his breath was warm on the nape of Hanzo’s neck, causing the hair to raise up on his arms, but he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. 

It felt too nice to resist this little indulgence, so Hanzo allowed himself to relax, for once, and even rested back slightly against the other man. That night in Jesse’s arms was the most restful sleep Hanzo had felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw McCree is a goddamn liar there were definitely 2-bed rooms available, huehuehue ;D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo must finally confront the feelings he's begun to develop for McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so many other fics I need to update but idk I've really been feeling McHanzo lately.

The next morning, Hanzo woke up to an empty bed. He cursed himself for the disappointment he felt over the fact that Jesse had already gone off somewhere. Whatever thoughts he had the night before needed to stop before he did something he might regret.

Being alone helped Hanzo clear his mind, but the peace and quiet didn't last very long. The door burst open and the cowboy swept into the room with a drink carrier in one hand, and a plastic bag hanging from his wrist. 

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty. ‘Bout time you woke up, and I didn't even get a kiss,” Jesse shamelessly flirted as he set down the drinks and pulled a box out of the bag. “Brought some coffee, donuts, and kolaches for breakfast.” 

“Why must you do these things?” Hanzo grumbled, rubbing at his temple. 

The cowboy gave an exaggerated pout. “Thought you might want some breakfast.” 

“I don't mean that, I just--” Hanzo sighed, worried he might seem ungrateful or impolite, so he dropped the issue for now. “Thank you.” 

He reached for what he thought was a plain pastry, but as he took a bite, he was taken off guard by the savory flavor, rather than the sweetness he had been expecting. His eyes widened and he closely examined what was in his hand. The soft pastry bun didn't contain any sugary filling, but rather, a sausage covered in melted cheese. 

“What? Don't like kolaches?” Jesse raised an eyebrow as he took half of one in a single bite. 

“No, it's good, just not what I had expected.” Now that he knew what he was eating, Hanzo took another bite, able to enjoy his food more properly this time. “In Japan, we also have our own version of meat cooked inside a bun.” 

A sly grin slowly spread over Jesse’s face as he looked over the other man, letting out a snort as he chuckled softly. 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the cowboy, assuming he was considering a lewd comment about “meat” inside “buns.” It was bad enough that he could decipher Jesse’s way of thinking, and Hanzo certainly wasn't going to dignify such vulgarity with a response. 

“We'll need to find a mechanic,” he pointed out, quickly changing the subject. 

“Done,” Jesse announced with a proud grin. “Met a guy in line at the donut shop. His cousin owns a garage, said he'll give us a deal.” 

“Before we give our business to the first person we meet, I think it's worth looking around and comparing prices and skill of the mechanics,” Hanzo protested. 

“Look where we're at, Han,” the cowboy sighed, sweeping his arm towards the window. “Ain’t no Firestone out here. Some guy’s cousin is the best we're gonna get.” 

With a defeated sigh, Hanzo simply accepted their situation. This man clearly knew more about rural life than Hanzo ever would, so he allowed Jesse to take the lead. 

“Then we should meet with this man as soon as possible,” he suggested. “I'm eager to be on our way.” 

“Oh, darlin…” Jesse chuckled again. “No use rushin’. We're most likely stuck here a few days.” 

Hanzo's eyes filled with despair at this news. “I must get to Padre Island! At this rate, I would have been better off waiting for my brother to return to his apartment.” 

“Yeah, well, hindsight’s 20/20. Besides,” he gave a little wink, “you wouldn't have met me.” 

“As I said,” Hanzo repeated as he shifted off the bed to put on his shirt, “I'd be better off.” 

“Aw, c’mon, sugarbean, you can't mean that.” The cowboy gave him another sad little pout. 

“Let's see about repairing the car. And oh, McCree…” The cowboy perked up in interest, but Hanzo simply added, “You _will_ return that horse.” 

“If you insist,” Jesse shrugged as he made his way to the door. “I'll take you to the mechanic, then meet you at the car with the horse. How's that sound?” 

Seeing no better option, Hanzo gave a nod of approval as he followed Jesse out of the motel. 

*~*~*~*

Towing the car was a simple process. Hanzo rode with the mechanic and pointed out where the vehicle had broken down, and Jesse returned the horse, as he promised. When the mechanic brought them back into town, the two men took their belongings from the car and returned to the motel. 

Jesse was insistent on exploring the local sights - or lack thereof - and especially wanted his companion to join him, for whatever reason, but Hanzo declined, no matter how much the cowboy begged and pleaded. Eventually, Jesse gave up and set out into the town alone. 

Though there weren’t many ways to pass the time, Hanzo enjoyed the peace and quiet of having the room to himself. There was a TV, but it only had access to limited local channels. Hanzo plugged his phone into the charger and checked his messages, but as expected, there was nothing from his brother. 

As the hour grew later, he began to wonder what happened to his companion, but convinced himself that whatever happened to Jesse was not his concern. When it was late enough in the afternoon to be morning in Japan, Hanzo called his father with an update of his journey. The head of the Shimada clan was not pleased with the delay, but there wasn't much else either of them could do but wait for the car to be fixed. 

During the phone call, Hanzo could hear a muffled racket from the other side of the door, as though someone were scratching and clanging against the lock, accompanied by an off-tune singing. After a brief struggle with the key, the cowboy stumbled into the room, completely reeking of whiskey. 

_”It is then I wonder where you are my darlin’~”_ Jesse continued his song, slamming the door shut behind him while tossing his cowboy hat like a frisbee across the room. 

“What is that racket?” the voice of Hanzo's father hissed through the earpiece. 

“These Americans are very loud,” Hanzo grumbled over the cowboy’s drunken singing. 

_”And if your heart to me is still the same~”_

Jesse flopped onto the bed near the other man, and Hanzo quickly realized he needed to end this call before his father heard too much. 

“Everything is under control. I must go,” Hanzo quickly ended the call, worried his father would be upset by such an abrupt ending, but it was preferable to the alternative. After setting the phone aside, he turned to shoot McCree an angry glare. “What is the matter with you?” 

The cowboy ignored the question and continued his attempt to serenade the other man. _”For the sighin’ wind and nightingale a-singin’, are breathin’ only your own sweet name~”_

“You interrupted a phone call with my father,” Hanzo continued to sternly insist, refusing to be charmed by any of this nonsense. 

_”Sweet Hanzo-line!”_ Jesse sang, leaning in to slide his arms around Hanzo's waist. “For you I pine in all my dreams~” 

Hanzo leaned back against the headboard, watching the other man make a complete fool of himself. Jesse’s head was nearly in his lap as he glanced up at Hanzo with a lopsided grin. 

“You reek,” he commented with a glare. 

“Yeah? You smell like…” Jesse released the other man just to lift himself up closer to Hanzo's neck and deeply inhale through his nose. “Flowers.” 

Even though Hanzo knew that Jesse was drunk, being this close still somehow set his heart racing once again. As the cowboy reached up to run his fingers through the other man's hair, Hanzo froze in place, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. 

“Soft…” Jesse noted, pausing for a moment to idly tangle his fingers in those long, dark strands of hair. 

What happened next, Hanzo could see coming a mile away. He knew he should stop this from going any further, yet he remained still as Jesse leaned in to clumsily press their lips together. This was wrong - so very, very wrong for a number of reasons, yet instead of pushing the other man away, Hanzo gripped Jesse’s shirt and parted his lips as an invitation to continue. 

Hanzo thought he might get drunk from the whiskey that still lingered on the other man's breath, if he didn't choke first from the lingering taste of cigar smoke. The kiss was sloppy and lazy, yet Hanzo still couldn't resist. Jesse’s lips were so soft, despite the rough bristles along his jaw, and his touch was so gentle as he idly toyed with the other man's hair. Though Hanzo was stone sober, he somehow found that his own inhibitions were also completely melting away. 

As Jesse’s kisses grew more urgent, he fumbled with the buttons on the front of his shirt. Clearly not having the coordination for it, Hanzo helped to quickly work the buttons open. The cowboy tossed his flannel aside, but still wore a plain white undershirt. He broke away from Hanzo and sat upright to pull it up over his head. Thanks to the liquor, Jesse came horribly unbalanced and fell over onto the mattress beside Hanzo. 

The cowboy lazily squirmed for a moment as he struggled, causing Hanzo to actually chuckle in amusement as he watched. He was about to lend a hand, when Jesse suddenly fell still. At first, Hanzo thought maybe he was taking a rest, exhausted from the struggle, but at the sound of his companion’s light snoring, it was clear that Jesse had fallen asleep right there, in the heat of the moment, with his shirt over his head. 

With an exasperated sigh, Hanzo decided to yank the fabric the rest of the way over Jesse’s head to make sure he didn't somehow suffocate himself. Left in a sour mood - partly out of unsatisfied frustration, partly because he almost just allowed that to happen - Hanzo grabbed the closest thing resembling an extra blanket, which happened to be Jesse’s sarape, and curled up in the armchair situated in the corner of the room. 

As he huddled up, he couldn't help but notice how the sarape smelled like the other man, but no matter how much he resisted, Hanzo couldn't help but imagine the night before, how good it felt to rest beside Jesse, with those burly arms draped around him. This was just a temporary foolishness, Hanzo reminded himself, and although he almost gave in to a whim, he needed to resist just a bit longer. 

The chair was an extremely uncomfortable place to sleep, and Hanzo found himself waking up every few hours to try and adjust to a more comfortable position. Since he couldn't get proper rest, Hanzo ended up dozing on and off into the late morning. As he finally gave up and opened his eyes, he spotted Jesse watching him with a tired grin. 

“What?” Hanzo grumbled. “Why are you looking at me like that.” 

“Lookin’ good in my sarape,” the cowboy answered in a dry, raspy voice. 

“You're still drunk,” Hanzo scoffed as he tossed the shawl aside and stretched, bones cracking from the uncomfortable position he held all night. 

“Nah, but I'm hung over as hell,” Jesse grumbled, rubbing the corners of his eyes. 

Hanzo made his way to the sink and filled one of the complementary cups with water before handing it to his companion. “Drink.” 

Jesse gladly downed the entire glass in just a few gulps before setting it aside. “Surprised you didn't wanna share the bed last night.” 

“I didn't care to risk you vomiting all over me in your sleep,” Hanzo lied. Though it was a valid concern, he was more worried by his own reckless actions and felt that more distance between himself and the other man would be beneficial. 

“Nah, no puke yet,” Jesse reassured as he huddled back under the covers. “Head’s killin’ me, though.” 

“Mm. Rest.” Hanzo refilled the glass with water for his companion and retreated to the bathroom for a shower. 

By the time he was finished and dressed, he found Jesse had fallen back to sleep in the bed. So as not to disturb the other man, Hanzo decided to head out into town to see what sort of food he might bring back. 

Ginger tea and miso soup had always been Hanzo's go-to hangover food, but once he got a look of the town, he doubted he'd have many options to choose from. After walking for a little while, Hanzo spotted a small diner that boasted the “best chicken fried steak in the county.” He felt his own stomach gurgle at the thought of food, so he decided to make a personal stop before running his errands. 

The steak, in reality, was not even close to the best of anything Hanzo had tasted. There was too much gravy and batter that drowned the slab of meat, which was too tough to be any kind of enjoyable. Still, he politely ate what was offered to him and left a fair tip before continuing his walk. 

Once he found a corner store, Hanzo spent a moment browsing for any food that might help Jesse’s hangover and finally settled on a few bottles of sports drinks, microwavable chicken soup, and crackers. Everything else in this town seemed much too greasy to feed someone who already wasn't feeling well. 

When Hanzo returned to the motel, Jesse was out of bed and brushing his teeth in the sink. When he noticed the other man return, he rinsed out his mouth and greeted him in the bedroom. 

“Perfect timing. You just missed the puking,” Jesse said with a weak smile. 

Hanzo’s lip curled in disgust as he set down the bag of supplies. “Anyhow, I thought this might help you.” 

The cowboy immediately grabbed one of the drinks and chugged over half of it. “That hits the spot. Thanks.” 

Hanzo returned to the armchair and pulled out his phone, which had only a message from his father angrily scolding him for the abrupt end to the call. Since it would have been the middle of the night in Japan, Hanzo simply replied with a text apologizing for the disruption, and reassured him that everything was fine. 

With nothing else to do, the silence grew uncomfortably heavy between the two men, so Hanzo finally spoke up again, “Any word from the mechanic?” 

Jesse replied with a shake of his head. “Not yet. He had to order a part that's gonna take a while to get here.” 

Hanzo gave a simple grunt of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to his phone. There were no games or internet access on this cheap phone, but there was nothing else to look at to divert his attention from the other man. 

“Hey,” the cowboy spoke up again, speaking in a serious tone, for once, as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Hanzo.” 

Though his own eyes were lowered, Hanzo could practically feel the weight of Jesse’s gaze as the cowboy intently watched over him. Hanzo remained silent, offering only another disinterested grunt. 

“We just gonna pretend like last night didn't happen?” Jesse continued. 

“It must have been quite embarrassing for you,” Hanzo replied, still not looking up. “I can see why you might want to forget.” 

“You know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

“You were drunk,” Hanzo shrugged indifferently. 

“But _you_ weren't,” the cowboy pressed. 

“What difference does it make? I'm no stranger to drunken foolishness.” 

“That's not-- Dammit, Han, I maybe was drunk, but I ain't no fool,” Jesse huffed and pointed an accusatory finger at the other man. “You were kissin’ me back.” 

“You weren't in a proper state of mind,” Hanzo deflected. “It must have been a dream.” 

Jesse paused, looking like a kicked puppy before he replied, “Fine. I get it. Been throwin’ myself at you since I saw you, but… I dunno, thought maybe you'd be a little interested, ‘specially after the other night.” 

“McCree…” Hanzo sighed, still politely using the other man's last name. “I have a duty to my family. You understand? I cannot allow these distractions.” 

The cowboy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Your daddy's on the other side o’ the ocean. Who gives a hoot if you fool around a little while you're here?” 

“I must remain focused,” Hanzo sternly insisted. 

“Focused on what, the peelin’ wallpaper of this hotel room? We ain't goin’ nowhere til that car part comes in.” 

“I can't--” In his frustration, Hanzo stood up with a heavy sigh as he began to slowly pace in front of the chair. “You don't understand. My family - my culture - it's too different from yours.” 

“Shit, Hanzo, I don't give a damn about that, and neither should you!” Jesse grumbled. “What kind o’ control does your family have on you while you're so many miles away?” 

“Where I come from, my values - they're still part of me, however far I leave home. And if you can't respect that…” Hanzo trailed off, shaking his head. 

“I do, Han, I'm tryin’ to understand,” Jesse reached out to try and grab the other man's hand, but he was only swatted away. “But if you're into me the way I think you are, why fight it?” 

Hanzo looked up at the cowboy, unable to mask the heartbreak in his eyes. They were both from such different worlds, he had no idea how to make Jesse understand that this could never work. Jesse had his life here, in America, while Hanzo could never abandon his family in Japan. Not to mention, his duty was to marry a good woman to continue the Shimada family name. Shutting down whatever was between the two of them seemed like the responsible thing to do, and would save them both a worse pain in the long run. 

Sure, they could have a meaningless fling with each other, but Hanzo didn't want that. He didn't want to be a piece of meat used up for someone else's temporary fun, so either way, he knew what he must do. 

“I think it's best if we have some space from one another. So, despite the extra costs, I will rent my own separate motel room,” Hanzo resolved. 

“Hanzo, wait!” Jesse called out as the other man began to leave, but in his groggy, hung-over state, he was unable to stop him. 

Hanzo walked directly to the main office and pulled out his wallet as he asked to reserve a room. But he was taken completely off guard as the clerk asked one simple question - four harmless words that made Hanzo feel as though someone had ripped open his chest: 

_”One bed or two?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know... I've noticed this trend where I'm like, "I'm gonna make em bang this chapter," but then when I get down to it, I'm like... nnnaaaahhh, make em suffer some more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo continues to struggle with potential feelings for McCree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HEY LOOK here's another fic I have slowly been working on. I'm not dead, I swear!

“Hanzo. Hunnybun, sugarbear.”

Jesse’s cries had been nearly relentless throughout the afternoon. He had remained almost constantly outside the motel room door, banging and pleading for his companion to let him in so they could talk. Hanzo, though, was having none of it. It took every bit of patience, but he managed to ignore the cowboy, hoping that any minute, he would give up. 

And yet, Jesse persisted. 

After a brief pause, just as Hanzo was wondering if the other man had finally given up, there was more knocking at his door once again. 

“Mechanic says the car’s ready!” Jesse called from the other side. 

This was actually something important, so with a sigh, Hanzo stood up and opened the door. He was met with a wide, toothy grin from his companion. 

“Knew that one would work,” Jesse said. 

Hanzo couldn't believe he fell for that. Without a word he shut the door in the cowboy’s face - at least, tried to. Jesse slipped his boot past the threshold, preventing the door from closing. 

“Leave me alone,” Hanzo sternly demanded. 

“Just lemme speak my piece and I'll be on my way,” the cowboy insisted and began to shove his way into the room. 

“What is there to say?” Hanzo replied, but at this point, had no choice but to let the other man inside. “You are a thief and a liar, Jesse McCree.” 

“Hey, I ain't stole nothin’ since the bus,” he paused, then continued, “Okay, I stole the horses. But I gave ‘em back, and look - I ain't stole a thing of yours.” With a grin, he added, “Except for your heart, maybe?” 

Hanzo’s brow wrinkled as his frown deepened. “You must prove yourself worthy of a Shimada’s affections. A task you have clearly failed.” 

“I'm sorry, Hanzo, please,” Jesse replied. “I only lied about the room ‘cause I kinda like you, all right?” 

“This is all a game to you,” Hanzo said, folding his arms over his chest. “I will not lie with someone who must manipulate me into his bed.” 

“That's not what I--” Jesse cut himself off with a sigh. He briefly lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair. “I wouldn't lay so much as a finger on you if you didn't want it.” 

“I don't.” 

“Okay. Fine.” the cowboy put up his hands in surrender and even took a step back. “But something happened last night, and you know it. If I hadn't passed out, a whole hell of a lot more would've happened too.” 

“And I'm relieved it did not,” Hanzo insisted. “It was a momentary lapse of judgement. I am ashamed for my behavior, but it will not happen again.” 

The earnest, pleading look in Jesse’s eyes was growing difficult to resist, however. Any time Hanzo began to feel like he might be a bit more lenient, he just reminded himself of all the sleazy things he had seen Jesse do in just the short time they had been together, and that was enough to keep his anger fueled at the other man. 

There was one question that had been bugging Hanzo, though. “Why do you even care so much?!” 

“Already said, I kinda like ya.” 

“But _why?_ I am nothing like your kind.” 

“Maybe that's kinda why,” Jesse replied with a casual shrug. “Han, you're damn incredible, can't ya see that? You got this sense of nobility, and all them badass karate moves… It's kinda inspiring. Makes me wanna be better - be _worthy,_ as you said.” 

Those words made it difficult to shake the feeling like Hanzo’s gut had twisted into knots. He knit his eyebrows, looking over the cowboy as if trying to solve a puzzle. “It hardly matters. Once I find my brother, I'll be gone, and you'll never see me again.” 

Jesse responded with a hearty chuckle, “That's what you're so worried about? That I'll sweep you off your feet and make ya heartsick once you're all the way in Japan?” 

“Hardly!” Hanzo scoffed. 

“Then where’s the harm in havin’ a little fun?!” Jesse threw his arms up in the air in frustration. 

“Because I have self respect! If all I am is just ‘a little fun,’ then it isn’t worth it.” Hanzo hesitated, then added, “And if my father ever found out…” 

“Your daddy again?! He’s on the other side of a whole ocean.” 

“You don’t understand. My father is a very powerful man.” When Jesse folded his arms and skeptically raised an eyebrow, Hanzo continued, “For generations, my family has led a certain organization. He is kumicho of a Yakuza clan, and I am to take over when he dies.” He didn’t mean to be so careless giving such information away, but at this point, he hoped to just scare this cowboy off. 

But Jesse didn’t cower. Instead, he burst out into laughter. 

“You think I am joking about such a serious matter?” 

“No, no, it’s just…” The cowboy took a deep breath, collecting himself before continuing, “Here you are, lecturin’ me about all my petty thieven’ and lyin’, and you’re fuckin’ _Yakuza._ Ain’t that just a dadgum kick in the head.” 

Hanzo glanced off to the side, feeling like a hypocrite now that Jesse had pointed it out. 

“Goodnight, Hanzo,” Jesse said with a wave and exasperated sigh as he finally saw himself to the door. 

This was what Hanzo wanted - to be left alone, yet somehow, it didn’t quite feel as satisfying as he had hoped. Sure, he may have been part of what some might call a gang, but that’s not all the Yakuza was. Their activities might not have been entirely legal, but he still had a sense of duty and honor. His family was part of the local community. The Shimada were very well-established. It was nothing like Jesse’s scoundrel Deadlock gang, he reassured himself. 

But still, something didn’t sit right with Hanzo. Once he had time to stew alone and calm down, he realized perhaps he ought to smooth things over with the cowboy. They both had kept secrets from one another, so he supposed that made them even. Besides, they were still stuck with one another until the car could be repaired. 

Hanzo finally decided to leave the room and knock on Jesse’s door. However, as he approached the cowboy’s motel room, the door opened and a woman stepped outside. She walked right past Hanzo, paying him no mind, but Jesse remained in the doorway, jeans resting low on his hips with his flannel unbuttoned and wide open. 

This cowboy was truly unbelievable. It wasn’t even that late in the evening yet, and he had already finished with some strange woman. Hanzo’s eyes filled with fury before he finally turned heel and stormed off down the road. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to be _away._

There was no reason for him to be so upset, he realized. What should he care who Jesse invites into his bed? If Hanzo cared so much, he wouldn’t have turned down the cowboy over and over. It was none of his business. He knew this, and yet it still hurt. After all that smooth-talking, that’s all he was to Jesse - a convenient lay for the cowboy to discard as soon as a new willing subject came along. No matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter, for some reason, Hanzo couldn’t keep his stomach from twisting into knots. 

Lost in thought, he hadn’t been paying much attention to where he was going and nearly ran straight into a group of loitering strangers blocking his path. Hanzo muttered a quick, “Pardon me,” and attempted to step around the others. One man, however, sidestepped along with Hanzo. 

“Hey, you’re that foreigner what came to town,” the stranger noted, accent heavy. 

Hanzo wasn’t sure what to make of such an astute observation, so he remained silent. 

The man pulled a handgun out of his pocket and held it threateningly. “Why don’t ya hand over your wallet and move along?” 

Despite the dire situation, Hanzo couldn’t help but smirk. “How unfortunate for you, that our paths would cross at this time.” 

“You understand American?!” the man angrily replied. His friends stood nearby, laughing softly. “I’M - ROBBIN’ - YOU. MONEY. GIVE.” 

On a normal evening, Hanzo might have given these young men a clearer warning, but he was in the mood to let off some steam. Without another word, he swiftly twisted the man’s arm, causing him to drop the gun. Of course, his friends lunged for the weapon, but Hanzo shoved the man in their path, giving him enough time to kick the gun away into nearby bushes. 

The lack of a weapon didn’t discourage the small gang. Infuriated, they came at Hanzo all at once, but none of the thugs were very skilled. They lunged at their opponent with no strategy or finesse, relying solely on their greater numbers. Hanzo easily dodged the attacks and used his attackers’ momentum to trip a couple of the men. Enraged that this initial assault failed, the gang attempted an even fiercer counter-attack. 

Although he was greatly outnumbered, the match posed no difficulty to Hanzo. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, glad to blow off the steam and frustration he had been feeling towards Jesse. He allowed the gang to attack him for a while as he dodged and knocked over his assailants. The other men would get back up and try again, only to fail. Before long, however, Hanzo grew bored of toying with them, so he began to add a punch or a kick to his dodges. 

Though he did enjoy taking on this group of thugs, Hanzo eventually battered his opponents to the point where they couldn’t go on any longer. Once the last man had been knocked to the ground among his friends, all either groaning in pain or passed out, Hanzo paused to stretch and took a deep breath as he turned away from the battle scene. 

He looked up to find Jesse standing motionless with a stunned look on his face, mouth curling up into a little grin. 

“Leave, now,” Hanzo ordered. 

“Sheesh, no need to get your fundoshi in a twist,” Jesse chuckled at his own joke. “That’s right, I did some Googlin’.” 

Hanzo’s lip curled in disdain as he responded with a simple grunt. He decided it wasn’t worth engaging the cowboy on the topic of modern Japanese undergarments and simply began his walk back to the hotel. 

He knew he needed to leave the area immediately. Every second he lingered, he risked a late night patrol to catch him leaving the scene, or a passerby to report the incident. This truly was a case of self-defense, but he was an outsider in this small town. He knew the law wouldn’t look kindly on what he had done, and he didn’t need to draw any unneeded attention to his father’s business by getting into trouble with the law. 

Of course, as he walked, the cowboy followed. “Anyway, the reason I came out looking for you is ‘cause I just want to say that nothin’ happened between me and that woman.” 

“Who you take into your bed is no concern of mine,” Hanzo replied, keeping a brisk pace with his eyes ahead. 

“All right, fine, but it’s important to me that you know that.” 

“How can I ever trust the words of a liar?” 

“Think about it, Han. It ain’t all that late yet,” Jesse pointed out. “If anything happened, well… It’d still be happenin’ right now.” 

Hanzo paused to scoff. “What difference does this make?” 

“I wanted you to know ‘cause you’re the reason nothin’ happened,” the cowboy explained. “I tried my damndest to just forget about you and take my comforts elsewhere, but…” Jesse sighed, “Here we are.” 

Hanzo fell silent, unsure how to respond. His gait slowed down, but he kept walking as he considered Jesse’s words. By all logic, he knew it would be best to ignore the other man, that Jesse McCree was more trouble than he was worth. Yet, there was this odd charm about him that even after everything, Hanzo found difficult to resist. 

Despite the momentary silence, Jesse seemed more than happy to continue talking. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you made your point plenty of times, but like I said. Just wanted you to know.” 

The rest of the walk back to the motel didn’t take long, and Hanzo remained tight-lipped every step of the way. As much time as he spent trying to avoid Jesse, Hanzo somehow felt an odd sense of disappointment once it was time to part ways. Maybe he was being a bit hard on the cowboy. Even Hanzo had also kept his own secrets from Jesse, so who was he to judge? 

“G’night, Hanzo,” the cowboy spoke up one last time, politely tipping his hat as he turned away to go to his room. 

Every bit of logic told Hanzo to just go back to his room and go to sleep, but for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he found himself hurrying towards the other man’s door. Just as Jesse stepped into his room, Hanzo quickly put up a hand to keep the door from closing. At the lack of the sound of a door closing, Jesse turned around with confusion in his eyes to see Hanzo standing in the doorway. 

A question had begun to form on Jesse’s lips, but he never had the chance to speak it. Hanzo immediately closed the distance and pulled the cowboy into an eager kiss. Jesse, of course, didn’t complain. He flailed an arm out to swing the door fully shut and tugged Hanzo into the peaceful darkness of his motel room.


End file.
